


A Cornered Wallflower

by Everyday_Im_Preaching



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Kissing, Making Out, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-26 15:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17748395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everyday_Im_Preaching/pseuds/Everyday_Im_Preaching
Summary: You've tucked yourself neatly in-betwixt a set of bookshelves, hoping to get some time time alone, away from the other grunts. Despite your attempts, you find yourself interrupted by none other than the boss himself.





	A Cornered Wallflower

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This is my first Guzma/Reader fic ;u; I hope you like it!

 

“What are you doin’ up here?” 

The question has you jumping, startled by the sudden interruption. You turn around, eyes wide and unsure at the sound of the boss, now looming over you. Your shoulders hunch up, nearly reaching your ears—you weren’t hiding. You had no reason to be ashamed, or afraid. 

“It’s my day off,” you say, rolling your shoulders back and trying to work out the tension that had suddenly come over you. You gesture to your setup; a blanket with a bag on top (most of its girth was from a secondary blanket stuffed inside it) and your second hand laptop you’d haggled for when you weren’t in your work gear. 

Everything was tucked neatly between two bookcases, overlooking the floor below. “Everyone’s kind of loud down in the crew bunks, thought I’d come up here to relax.” You always came up here to relax. It wasn’t like no one came up here, but the rest of the grunts didn’t sandwich themselves between what was left of the legal section.

“Nothin’ wrong with that I s’pose,” Guzma grunts. He leans against the bookshelf, eyeing you critically. “Seen you come up here the last couple days. Thought you might be hidin’ something, but you ain’t hiding nothin’ but yourself, huh? Why don’t you want to get rowdy with the rest of the crew?”

“I can get rowdy with them when I work with them,” You reply, not taking your eyes off Guzma. You shifted slightly, wondering if he’d tell you to go join them. “No reason I can’t take some time to myself.”

Guzma nods and crosses his arms over his chest. “Mind if I join ya’ up here? Won’t make a peep, I swear.” 

“‘S’your base, boss,” You almost  _ stutter _ out. “I can’t tell you where you can and can’t be.” You resist the urge to tuck your arms behind your back and wring your wrists until they’re red. “But you’re welcome to hang around, long as you don’t mind the quiet.” You slowly sit down when you realise he’s not going to leave. 

It takes roughly ten minutes (not that long at all, if you think about it,) before you’re tucked in your little makeshift alcove. Guzma is—or was, the last time you check—leaning up against the bookshelf still, eyes focusing on something out of your view. Or maybe nothing at all. Down below, you could see mock battles playing out. 

“Room enough for two in here?” Guzma suddenly asks, getting you to jump once again. He wore a smug grin on his face, as if he knew he’d scared you. “Calm down, I ain’t lookin’ to get frisky. You just look real comfy down in here. Thought I’d see what it’s all about.” 

You scoot over to allow him space without thinking about it. “Come on in, if you wanna. Not a lot of leg space though.” You look pointedly at his longer legs. 

Guzma shrugs. “Been in tighter places.” He crouches down, took a look at his shoes, and then lazily tuggs the tongue of them to loosen the laces. They were kicked off, and then without a second thought, he plops himself down into the small space. You are immediately caught off guard, blinking stupidly as the scent of, well,  _ Guzma  _ washes over you. He smells of the forest undergrowth, wet and earthy and  _ alive.  _ A sharp hint of citrus ran underneath it, mixing with the all-too-familiar scent of dust. You turn your face from him, letting your eyes focus blankly on the scene below. 

“Hey,” Guzma interrupts your tense, dazed meditation. You jerk your head toward him, curious and frightened all at once. Nothing in his face bespoke crossness. More like concern. “I’m being serious here, alright? Any of them punks giving you a hard time? I understand wantin’ personal space, but only if it ain’t cause someone’s causin’ you grief.” 

“It’s got nothing to do with any beef between me and another grunt, I promise.” It’s too much work to get into a fight with another grunt. There’s too much to do to without wasting time on insignificant spats. “Ain’t got time for that boss, you know that.”

Guzma shrugs, pressing his shoulders back against the bookshelf behind him. “Yeah, but not everyone keeps the same schedule as you. Plenty of time for arguin’. Don’t hole up in weird places. You sure you’re good?” 

“Why so interested?” You ask in return, unsure of why he took the time out of his schedule to make sure you were okay. Guzma turns his head, giving you a long, hard stare. “You make time to check on everyone like this?” You crack a grin, not knowing what compelled it. “Or am I a special case?” 

“You see me cosying up to anyone else?” Guzma asked. He nudges your shoulder with his and you duck your head. “I might’ve had an ulterior motive for checking up on you. Not often we recruit a cutie like you. Still care about if you’re doin’ alright of course.”

You look at him, wondering if this is some sort of test. “What?” 

Slightly greasy fingers reach out and catch your chin—he turns your face upwards, inspecting it. “I said, you’re a cutie. Got a problem with that?” 

“I’m not the type to sleep my way to the top,” you respond, feeling your chin tipped high enough so that you meet his eyes. He laughs and you see rows of white teeth flash at you. “Not my style.” You didn’t know what was happening, or  _ why  _ it was happening. But it was. And you were here, right in the middle of it. 

“Ain’t nobody sleeps their way to the top in Team Skull,” Guzma replies. “That ain’t  _ my  _ style. Ain’t askin’ for no favors neither. You’ve got a pretty well hidden place here though, away from wandering eyes. If you’re interested.” You could feel your ears  _ burning _ . “Nothin’ serious. We got rooms for that.” 

You tilt your head to the side, and you watch him mimic the way it mov. “When it moves to the bedroom it’s serious? Just how many people are you serious with?” The hand left your chin—but it didn’t move far. It slips into the space between your side opposite Guzma, right between your hip and arm.

“Actin’ like I’m some kind of doxy. I’ve played a little, but haven’t found anybody that’s quite my type around here. Thinking I might give you a try. What do you think, huh? Any mutual interest?” 

“Is this a test?” You ask out loud, because you’re still confused. “Because I didn’t get a chance to study.” Guzma was so close now, you could feel the heat of his chest against yours. His smell was overwhelming, and you began to imagine what his lips might taste like against yours. You don’t want to just imagine it. You want to know, with  _ certainty,  _ what they taste like. 

“Ain’t a test doll.” There was the faintest hint of sweetness on his breath. “Just wantin’ to get my mack on, ya dig?” You swallow, looking up and searching his eyes for a lie. Finding none, you nod. Your cheeks were burning, your chest was hopping with shallow, uneven breaths—you couldn’t believe you were getting this worked up over being  _ kissed.  _

Guzma’s lips were warm. You let out a soft hiccup against them, melting against the bookcase behind you—thick fingers cup your jaw as Guzma presses closer until the two of you were chest to chest. You let out a soft noise of contentment as Guzma pulls away, leaving you starry-eyed.  

“Everything okay?” He asks. He sounds more than smug. You nod, still staring up at him, watching as he smiles. You let out a soft grunt as pulls you the slightest bit tighter against him—his cheek brushes against yours and you can feel unshaved stubble rub against your cheek. Guzma presses slow, wet kisses down the length of your jaw, each one open-mouthed and careful. 

His mouth soon returns to yours, capturing it in a slow, languid kiss that has your eyelids fluttering shut. One of your arms sneak around the back of his neck and his free hand slips under the back of your shirt. You snort as he pushes you further down against the blanket and you accidentally elbowing your bag. Now both of Guzma’s hands are roaming, travelling up your sides and tugging at your belt loops. 

“You taste pretty good for a grunt,” Guzma teases. He sat up, now effectively straddling you. He tilts his head up, staring down at the people below. Your cheeks burn at the idea of someone  _ seeing  _ the two of you. “Ah, look at you blushin’. You nervous about getting caught?”

“A little bit,” You mumble out, letting your eyes dart away. Guzma presses a kiss to your cheek and you can hear him laugh under his breath. “Aren’t you?”

Guzma rolls his shoulders back. “Ain’t nothin’ to be nervous about. Think anyone’s gonna argue with me about what and  _ who  _ I do in my free time? Nah, they got better things to do. Just like we do.” He flashes you a grin that had your toes curling. “How about we move this somewhere a bit more private, huh? I know a pretty good broom closet.” 

You can’t help but laugh. “Broom closet?”

“I told ya, bedroom is for serious. Unless you’re looking for serious.” 

You roll your lips between your teeth, looking up at him, in all his stupidly-confident glory. You swallow and slowly place your hands on his thighs. “Maybe I am.”

His grin grew wider, if possible. “Then it sounds like we got somethin’ in common.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the end of the fic!
> 
> Song for this fic:  
> Don't Kill My Vibe by Sigrid
> 
> Want to stay updated? Want to chat or shoot me a prompt? Have an idea that you'd like me to consider for this pairing? Feel free to click [here](http://everyday-im-preaching.tumblr.com/) to do all these things and more!


End file.
